


solstice

by bapofficial



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: ??????, ????????? i genuinely have no idea, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Violence, i just saw the 8th single album ot6 teaser and... got a bit excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bapofficial/pseuds/bapofficial
Summary: No matter how much Yongguk complains when the others try to drag him outside on cold winter days, he can’t deny he still enjoys the thrill.





	solstice

No matter how much Yongguk complains when the others try to drag him outside on cold winter days, he can’t deny he still enjoys the thrill. 

It’s not the same, of course. He still has small doubts sometimes, but they tread lightly on his mind, instantly buried by a fresh snow of understanding and relief. Times when Daehyun laughs a little too loudly, or Junhong stares a little too long, or Youngjae narrows his eyes with a little too much focus. He still can’t fully put a finger on Jongup, and that in itself gnaws at him when the nights grow long, but sunrise reveals the warmth behind every glance.

But it’s definitely not the same. Though it’s always been Himchan who has grounded him (and still does, with a hand on his shoulder and a reprimand when he deserves it), Himchan texts him in the mornings now instead of the evenings. He invites himself over for a night because he wants to keep Yongguk company and relax, and not because he wants to work, if it can be called that.

Yongguk still has trouble adjusting. When his sheets shroud him too tightly and he hears the sound of his own heartbeat, proof that he’s  _ real _ and that his living body is a wonderful part of him, his hand itches to switch the light on and reach for a pen and paper. He’s never needed his laptop; he knows every nook and dark alley of this side of the city, and whose feet walk over them. When his desire gets ahead of him sometimes, he’ll have a map drawn out and intricate notes scrawled all over it, legible only to himself and Himchan, before he stops and rips his art up, bitterly brushing the crumpled pieces off the edge of the bed, where they fall softly to cover the rough floorboards. He calls Himchan when that happens: he chooses to be alone, but loneliness dims his sight, drawing out his shunned temptations.

“Hey,” a voice says, hoisting Yongguk up out of his rushing thoughts.

“Hey,” Yongguk replies. A smirk pulls at the side of his mouth as he feels Himchan’s shoulders brush against his. 

It’s cold; through his peripheral vision, Yongguk sees Himchan draw his coat around himself tighter. They stand together by the side of the pond, watching the still surface. A strange feeling comes over Yongguk: he wants to lean forward, peer deeper into the water, perhaps fall through and run his fingers through the mud at the bottom.

Sometimes he thinks about how easy it would be to just sink back into the current, and let the icy water gushing from the distant mountains drag him back beneath morality, whenever he’s reminded of how well Himchan knows him and how they’ll always have each other’s backs. But in reality, it’s hard. It’s not just that he knows he shouldn’t do it anymore, but that he  _ can’t. _ No matter how much Himchan insists that he barely remembers the bullet puncturing his flesh and tearing his skin off, Yongguk catches glimpses of ugly scars and a bruised self-esteem. Himchan doesn’t hiss as much as he used to when Daehyun accidentally kicks at him, but the paleness of his gaunt face against the blood-spattered pavement, illuminated by a sickly flickering streetlight, is not a sight Yongguk will forget quickly.

“The others are waiting at the bridge.” Himchan’s voice is as irritating as ever, too loud and grating against the silence Yongguk likes. “Youngjae actually brought his wallet this time, apparently. A nice change.”

Yongguk snorts, and they turn to leave the quiet park without another look back.

As they stroll through the litter-strewn streets, Yongguk lets his mind wander again. The old bridge: that was where Youngjae and Junhong would hide before, watching over the filth of the neighbourhood, while Daehyun and Jongup would do the dirty work. Under the cover of night, they had been ruthless, their footsteps tracing terror into the very concrete. And yet Yongguk and Himchan had been their rivals from the beginning, until one night by the end, their snide remarks became playfully daring. They all lost themselves in the thrill of merciless night, wearing the darkness as a blindfold as they took and inflicted, and as a cloak until they slipped away, collapsing on the floor of Daehyun’s meticulously furnished apartment and ignoring his groans at the dirt and water they trod in. The day Himchan’s cloak caught on Yongguk’s careless high and he fell, his limp body dangling horrifyingly close to death, was the day they made the tacit agreement to shutter the night out.

Junhong is the first to spot them, pocketing his phone and waving excitably. The others look up soon enough and grin. It’s still strange, meeting under the weary eyes of the December sun. Yongguk hovers at the edge of the group until Youngjae tosses a cheap corner-shop snack at him, his eyes curving up in mirth at Yongguk’s startled expression, and beckoning him forward.

“Daehyun hyung drank your coffee,” Yongguk hears Jongup say softly.

“What, no I didn’t!” Daehyun blurts.

Yongguk turns to watch them.

Himchan arches an eyebrow, hand on waist, and sighs. “Give it over.”

With an abrupt laugh, Jongup leans back. “For two thousand.”

“Fine,” Himchan says exasperatedly, holding a hand out to Yongguk, much to Jongup’s surprise. Yongguk passes his pen and notepad. Himchan takes it, scribbling down a two and three zeroes, then hands it to Jongup, who laughs again.

“Do you carry that just to be petty?” he asks Yongguk as he reaches behind his bag for the coffees.

“He carries it for  _ my _ pettiness,” Himchan corrects him, and they throw their heads back once more, basking in the warmth of the sunlight and each other's smiles. 

They amble aimlessly along the streets they once prowled with purpose, filling the old calculated silence with words of memory and hope. Yongguk admires the way the sunlight catches on Junhong’s hair and remembers that he really is only a boy, and how it brings out the glee in Daehyun’s cheeks. Himchan limps ever so slightly, but he has friends to lean on if he needs to, not just accomplices.

Following Youngjae’s lead, they pile into a shabby restaurant and slide into a booth in the corner. Hot soup eases them out of their thick coats, and Yongguk decides to pay for them all, ignoring Youngjae’s loud complaints declaring he’ll never bring his wallet again. That’s fine by Yongguk: he’s saved up a lot of dirty money over the years, and managed to make it out before everything burned in his palms. 

But he doesn’t regret it, Yongguk thinks, as they watch the sunset together through the filthy window; he wouldn’t have met the others if he and Himchan hadn’t dared each other to stay out so late. Night is drawing closer, but they have the dim lights above, and Junhong’s phone light, piercingly bright. They shouldn’t be out at night, especially the longest night of the year, but it’s easier to keep the dark out this way. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://bapofficial.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/yeahbap)


End file.
